Governess Swann
by Miss Ruby Tuesday
Summary: Another island fic, but geared towards what we didn't see on in the movie. Mildly Sparrabeth.
1. Governor and Governess

_Sure, I own it. I also have a really great bridge for sale in Brooklyn, if anyone's interested._

He leaned up against the palm tree, enjoying its shade, as well at the bottle of rhum he'd liberated from its dusty grave. He should be more upset, he knew, but somehow it didn't seem as bad as it had the first time. This was, quite possibly, owed to the fact that he wasn't alone this time. It was at this very moment that his companion chose to settle her half-dressed self down next to him, sullenly clutching an untouched bottle of rhum in her hands.

"So, this is it? We'll just sit here and wait, hoping that just maybe a passing ship or," and here she sneered. "Sea turtle will pop up and rescue us?"

Jack nodded, swigging from his bottle. This was bloody grand rhum.

"You're going to do nothing except sit and drink? What will we do about shelter? What if there's a storm? Or wild beasts?"

Jack choked and sputtered on his rhum. "Luv, d'ye think this island is big enough to hold any fearsome, wild beasts?"

"I wouldn't know. I wasn't the one stranded... excuse me, marooned... here before. I should hope you'd protect me or, at the very least, tell me if there were. But you're no sort of gentleman, are you, Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain," he said lazily as he tipped his hat down over his eyes. Angrily, she snatched the hat off his head.

"How dare you call yourself a captain when all you've done is get us into this mess? Really, I daresay the Commodore could have done a better job of my 'rescue' than this. And it's hot here and there's nothing to drink but this vile rhum and... and... and... I've sand in the cut on my hand!" She'd sunken to whining; a new low for her.

"Elizabeth," Her head bobbed up, the use of her first name breaking her out of her tirade.

"Jack?"

"Tell me, do you ever shut up or does your mouth always flap like a loose sail in a hurricane?"

She opened her mouth, but no retort came out. How dare he say something like that to her? It wasn't as though any of this was her fault (well, maybe a little for lying about her last name), but still. She did not deserve such unspeakable rudeness, especially not from a pirate, of all things.

"It's Miss Swann!" She snapped. Why was it that she couldn't get the man she wanted to call her by her first name to and a man she didn't want to had no trouble at all?

"Governess Swann."

She had been ready to start back into him again, but his reply stopped her cold. "What did you say?"

"I said," he took his hat out of her hands and placed it back on his head. "Governess. Me and you, we're governors of this island all by ourselves. No stuffy king in England to decide what's best for a place he's never set foot, not preening, foppish birds to squawk and gossip. We'll do as we please with this pretty little place." He expected her to slap him, to scream at him, to fly into unmitigated histrionics like so many other women he'd been with. But no, she shocked him. After a few minutes of disbelief, she laughed.

"Governess Swann. I do rather like that sound of that, Governor Sparrow. What should we do for our first act of sovereignty?"

"Drink to us!" He snatched her bottle from her hands, uncorked it, and took a swig before handing it back to her. She eyes it suspiciously, then shifted her gaze to his mouth, before finally throwing back the bottle and taking her own long draught from it. Her body shuddered convulsively as the liquor burned her throat.

"It's good stuff, eh?" he said, clapping her heartily on the back. She continued to choke, her face turning beet red.

"Lovely," But even so, she took another swig, which went down far smoother than the first.

"There's a lass. Good girl!" His hands, involuntarily, started twirling the strands of her hair that brushed them. "You'll make a fine governess after all!"

"And this shall be the finest island paradise under the sun!" She leaned into his shoulder, just a little. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as she had first thought.


	2. Swimming Lesson

"No, no, no! You're doing it all bloody wrong!" Jack retracted his hand abruptly and Elizabeth sank like a stone to the bottom. "You're not letting yourself go."

She came up sputtering and frustrated. The salt water stung her eyes and burned her lips. "Why'd you let go?"

"Because you're not listening! You were just lying about, having me do all the work. If you want to swim, luv, you'll have to do it by your ownsies. I won't be there all the time to drag your carcass to shore!"

She huffed. This was most assuredly not fair.

"Just let yourself go, like lying back in your bed." With that, he lay back in the water, his entire body bobbing to the surface. He skimmed along like an empty ship. How could he so easily float when she sank like a cannonball? And why did he look as though he didn't have a care in the world?

Jack flipped over, his bare feet stirring up little puffs of sand in the clear water. "Shall we give it another go, darling?"

She nodded and lay back, feeling his rough hands on her upper and lower back as he supported her. "Just relax. Don't think of nothing weighty, think of a ship in the water." His voice was soft and almost hypnotic, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on the pleasurable sensations of the water lapping her gently and Jack's featherlight touch. This time, however, she didn't think about how utterly wrong this was. She relaxed so much that she didn't even feel Jack withdraw his hands.

"Lovely, isn't it?"

"Mm," she purred. She'd never felt so relaxed, so free, in her life.

"You're floating, you know."

"Albeit with your help, Jack."

"No, sweetheart, all on your own." Elizabeth's eyes popped open to the sight of Jack floating on his back next to her. Her reaction to this shock was to immediately sink. Again.

When she finished scrubbing the stinging water out of her eyes, again, Jack was no where to be seen. She turned towards the beach, figuring he might have gone ashore, perhaps for more rhum. But he was no where to be seen there, either. Panic welled up in her throat. It was a small island, where could he have gone?

"Jack ," she cried. "Jack... Captain Sparrow?" Her voice quivered and raised with her panic as her eyes scanned the shore. He couldn't have drowned, could he?

She was so ensconced in finding him on the shore that she was taken by utter surprised when something strong and tight wrapped around her ankle. She only had a moment to register before whatever it was hauled her off her feet and pulled her under.

Her mouth filled with seawater as she struggled. She had the irrational belief that she was going to be dragged out to sea by an octopus. Hadn't that been what Commodore Norrington had told her? A fanciful tale of a man eating octopus? Suddenly, it didn't seem so fanciful after all. It, whatever it was, wrapped another thick tentacle around her waist and started dragging her towards... the surface? That wasn't right. The Commodore had said it dragged men out to sea to devour them whole.

She dragged a deep breath into her aching lungs as she broke the surface. It was dizzying, the sun glittering off the water and the lightheaded breathlessness. After a moment, she realized that whatever had her by the waist still had her and, not only that, she was pressed against something that felt decidedly solid, like a body. She turned herself around and was face to face with a very wet, very smiling Jack Sparrow.

"Bloody pirate!" she slammed her fist into his chest. "How dare you! How could you? I thought you had drowned or run off or... or..." Her head drooped in defeat, her crown resting against his throat. "You frightened me."

"Where would I go, luv?" The rumble of his voice was soothing against her forehead. "It's not as though I've got a boat hidden away on the back side of the island." His other hand came up to rest in her tangled hair, soothing her like a child. "Sorry for the fright. I forget you're not used to games like that."

She brought her face out of his chest. "I was swimming for a bit, though, wasn't I?" Her eyes, when they met his, glittered with pride.

"That you were, luv, that you were."


	3. Fishing

"We're going to do what?" She watched Jack incredulously as he carved a little bit of wood into a wicked looking hook.

"We're going to catch us our dinner. What, did you expect there to be a cook hiding down with the rhum?"

Elizabeth just stared at him. She'd seen whole fish, down at the docks, but she'd never seen them caught or prepared. How they came from the sea to her plate was a mystery to her. Jack, on the other hand, seemed perfectly sure that he'd be able to catch something with that sharp, yet innocuous looking bit of whittling.

"If you're just going to stand there, you might as well dig up some bait."

"Bait? How?" She continued to just stare at him. He threw down the hook in frustration and lunged for her foot. He forced her toes into the sand, making her root around until her toes scraped against something hard.

"Jack... Jack! I've hit something. Please! Stop!" His hand released her foot, fingers continuing to probe below before coming up with a tightly closed clam.

"Ah, perfect!" he exclaimed. "I'll need you to find a new more of these. Here, now," he pointed to a few holes in the sand. "Look for these holes. It's where the siphon is. Use your toes to root them out. If I don't catch enough fish, we'll eat these."

Elizabeth scowled, but set to work digging through the sand. He'd been so sweet, earlier, but now he was cross and seemed to be tired of her inadequacies at being marooned. She'd never felt so incredibly useless before, not even in a house full of servants. Her sulking, however, was interrupted when her toes brushed the rough edge of a clam. She dropped to her knees, digging it the rest of the way out. Gleefully, she clutched it and brought it to Jack, who was threading a length of vine through a hole he'd carved in the top of the hook. He barely looked up at her.

"You're a good girl, Liz'beth, and a quick study. I don't mean to be so harsh with you," he said softly. "It comes from years of captaining."

She nodded, sitting down next to him. "I know." She fingered the length of ropey vine he wasn't actively using. "When you fish, will you let me watch? Perhaps show me how?"

"Aye." He got up and pulled her to her feet. "We're going to swim out a bit and you'll have to hold still once we're there. Your slightest movement could startle the fish." He picked up her clam and thrust the knife between the two halves. With a quick twist and a crack, the shell popped open, revealing the clam inside. He plucked it out with his fingers, running them over the slimy meat.

"Ah, here we go!" He plucked something from within the fold of the clam. Elizabeth leaned in to see what it was. In the palm of Jack's hand lay a small, irregularly shaped black pearl. "Bit far from the South Seas, aren't you?" he whispered to it. He dropped it in Elizabeth's hand and she stared at it. "Gift for you, m'lady governess; something to remember your stay."

He left her standing, baffled, and speared the meat on the hook. He wrapped the other clam into his scarf, then tied the line onto another longer bit of wood and strode out into the sea. Elizabeth hesitated, still looking at the tiny pearl in disbelief.

"C'mon, luv, you've got all night to dig up clams with those pretty little feet of yours if I don't catch anything."

She followed without question.

* * *

Jack, whether through luck or being an expert fisherman, managed to catch two good sized, silvery fish. She had no idea what they were and Jack hadn't offered a name, but she presumed they were edible and she was starving. As the old saying goes, any port will do in a storm.

"Do you want me to show you how to gut them or would you rather I just do it quick and be done with it?"

"Gut?" Elizabeth turned a bit green at the mention of it. "I'm not quite sure I'm ready for that."

"Right then," He gestured over his shoulder to the palm trees. "In that case, would you be so good as to fetch a couple of leaves to cook these in?"

Elizabeth stepped to and headed away from the light of the fire that Jack had built. There were a few fronds on the ground that seemed fairly green. She knew enough that the foliage had to be fresh in order for them to work to cook the fish in. She had watched Jack kindle the fire with the dry leaves earlier. It hadn't been such a bad day and Jack was pleasant... at times. His presence was comforting though, and she was quite sure she wouldn't have survived on the island alone.

"Oi! Do you want to eat sometime tonight, or after the fish rot away?"

"Coming!" she called down the beach as she headed back to the fire. Perhaps being marooned with Jack wouldn't be as bad as she thought.


	4. Polaris

They lay together in the sand, Jack's eyes heavy with drink and Elizabeth's not far behind. Following their surprisingly good meal, they had drank and sang and danced around the glowing fire. He'd told her stories, ones from the sea and ones about him. He'd showed her his tattoos and told her the stories behind them. In the glow of the fire, Elizabeth fancied herself in love with him, just a little bit.

She curled up, just slightly on her side, her head pillowed against his shoulder. She absently ghosted her fingers over his scars and tattoos, watching his skin shiver under her touch. She'd had a bit too much rhum, perhaps, but she didn't care right now. All her cares in the world focused on Jack, the warmth of his body, and the way his voice wove wonderful tales of the constellations.

"Now there, luv, is Cassiopeia, the queen of the skies. She's turned upside down as punishment for her boasting ways." He laughed. "She's there though and people know her. Some say that's all that matters. Anyhow, she was beautiful and vain. Her daughter is there with her, but not for the same reasons. Andromeda was beautiful as her mother, but selfless, and was set there after almost being eaten by a terrible sea beast and rescued by a dashing hero. Perseus, that's his name, he's there too, sharing a starry sky with his lady love for all eternity." His hand tightened on her shoulder, pulling her close.

"There," he pointed to a single bright star. "Is the most important star you'll ever see. She's the Dog Star, the North Star, Polaris, and she'll guide you where ever you want to be headin'. All you'll have to do, Elizabeth, is look to the skies and find her and she'll set you on your right course again. Many a Jack Tar's been saved by finding her and true north."

"You say such beautiful things, Jack," she said, her fingers playing with his beard. "When you talk, I can imagine myself far away from here." She wondered if he'd kiss her, if she lowered her lips to his. The rhum burning in her veins urged her to make good on this curiosity.

"It's a consequence of a long life, luv. You're young still, and you've got much to learn. Someday, you'll be the one telling these tales when I'm long lost to Davy Jones's Locker."

"You're not that old, Jack."

"Dearie, I'm easily a half score older than you and piracy certainly don't lend itself to ripe old age."

She propped herself up on her elbow, leaning over him. She swayed a little, drunk, her hair brushing over his face and neck. He could feel her rhummy breath on his face, and saw her eyelashes flutter to half-mast.

"But you're Captain Jack Sparrow," her lips brushed just barely against his, as she spoke. His hand slunk up her back, over her neck, and tangled in her hair as he pulled her down to him. Their kiss broke apart and she rested her head on his chest, listening to the wild tattoo of his heartbeat.

"Ah, luv, you don't know what you're doing," he whispered to the top of her head. It was too late, though. Her breathing had become slow and regular. The rhum had taken its toll on her and she slept what he hoped would be dreamless sleep, with only the stars to guide her. Jack followed her soon after, into a deep, rhum-laced slumber under the watchful eye of Polaris.

Some months after the whole 'unfortunate' experience, Elizabeth Swann stood on the balcony of her bedroom in her father's house. A soft breeze blew and it was an all around pleasant night, much like the one she had spent marooned. It was nights like these that haunted her and kept her awake till dawn tinged the morning haze. She rolled her fingers over the tiny, dark pearl she had brought home from the island she had been governess of for only a day and a half, and looked to the sky. Her eyes swept over the stars until she settled on a single, bright point. Finding Polaris was a comfort to her. She could almost hear Jack's voice whispering tales in her ear, as though he was right behind her. She wondered, briefly, if Jack was looking at the same star, right now, and thinking of her.

She scoffed. What a childish fancy! She was quite sure that she was the only one sitting around, pining for what should have been a horrible experience. She stared at the North Star just a bit longer before turning and heading back to bed. Someday, she would be able to plot her own course in life... someday.

At the same moment, Jack stood at the helm of the Pearl, plotting a course in his mind as he watched the Dog Star. His mind drifted back to the island he'd been marooned on and he found himself almost hoping he'd find it again, partially to chart it, but mostly remembering. It hadn't been so bad the second time around, and he found himself actually _missing_ his prissy governess. He'd see her again, he knew. The sea would get into her blood, like a fever, and not let her rest until she returned to it. He knew because it had happened to him as well. She might have thought her course plotted before, but there was always room for change. Jack's hand turned the wheel ever so slightly, altering the Pearl's course. Perhaps they'd make a rhum run in Tortuga. It was, after all, just a quick trip from there to Port Royal.

Polaris simply twinkled down on both of them. It was not her job to decide what people would make of their lives; it was just her job to guide them.


End file.
